


One Night

by i_claudia



Series: This Fast, Unreasonable Spring [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-11
Updated: 2009-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_claudia/pseuds/i_claudia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For snottygrrl's prompt: <i>the camelot boys of course (because i'm boring that way), but i want modern!au rentboy!arthur</i>. The original seed for This Fast, Unreasonable Spring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ [here](http://i-claudia.livejournal.com/40980.html#cutid5). (11 December 2009)

I’m not looking for someone to ‘save’ me, didn’t fall into this line of work because I have low self esteem or daddy issues. My daddy issues have nothing to do with my job. I just like sex. I like fucking and being fucked with no strings attached, no expectations beyond immediate pleasure, and I’m _good_ at it; hell, I’m the best. I’m no ten quid side alley blowjob – if you want me, you’d better be able to pay through the nose for the privilege.

Lance knows how I operate, screens all my clients thoroughly before he so much as gives them the time of day or the going rates, which is why my newest punter is so clearly a mix-up. The boy – and he is a boy, I’d be surprised if he was a day over nineteen – is scrawny, dressed in a too-baggy sweatshirt with holes in the seams. His hair is an unconditional disaster. He doesn’t look the type to go looking up high class prostitutes, let alone be able to afford them.

“You sure you’re in the right place?” I ask, lounging artfully in the armchair, though it’s a penthouse suite and he would have needed a key to make the elevator go to the right floor. 

He swallows, nods with a jerk, his eyes fixed on where the top three buttons of my shirt are undone, and I sigh internally. He has the money for it, or he’s getting the money from somewhere, enough to pay for my time until morning, and even I’m not comfortable enough to turn away that kind of cash. It’s going to be a long, boring night.

It isn’t. God, I don’t know where this boy came from or what he’s been doing, but he’s _damn_ good in bed. He knows exactly how to touch, knows how to drag his tongue along my skin until I shiver, knows when to ease off and when to thrust in, hard and punishing and exactly right. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed work this much, or the last time a john gave me a real screaming orgasm.

He leaves when the sun comes up, the angles of his body oddly beautiful in the rosy light. He’s pulling on the awful sweatshirt again, covering the marks I bit into his chest, and I know it’s irrational and stupid but I want to throw the hideous grey thing out the window, wrap him in silk sheets and nothing else. 

I watch from the bed as he laces up his trainers, too comfortable to think about moving yet.

“What’s your name?” I ask. He’d given Lance a name, of course, _Emrys_ , but one of the first things you learn in this business is that no one gives their real name. I shouldn’t ask. It’s a cardinal rule I’m breaking, but I want to know more than I care about the rules.

He looks at me, catches his bottom lip between his teeth. “Merlin,” he tells me softly, and I roll the unfamiliar syllables around in my mouth, testing them out. _Merlin_.

I walk him to the door – a first for me – and pin him against the frame, holding his chin with one hand while I take my last taste of his soft mouth. When I pull back his eyes are dazed and his lips are red and shiny, bruised. He reaches up, runs his fingers almost shyly through my hair. He opens his mouth, almost speaks before he thinks better of it and ducks his head, turns to leave. I want to chase him down and kiss him again, retrace the map of his body, but instead I pull my dressing gown tighter around myself and close the door. There’s work to do today, after all.


End file.
